Forgetting is the start of Remembering
by Darke Eco Freak
Summary: Accidents happen right? Accidents happen and they're no one's fault. Yeah well you could preach that until the cows come home still didn't change one damn thing.


**DEF: Well I think it's safe to say I've fallen in love with Hetalia and after Paint it White! I had to write something. Now this is a Human AU and I'm sorry if any of the characters come off as OOC or anything like that. **

_Carolyn: DEF does not own any of the characters mentioned in this story. Her main purpose was to exorcise her Gerita demon._

* * *

"Oh come on Ludwig, it's fun! Ve~ swing with me, come on, you know you want to," Feliciano sang as the swing arched, creaking as it did. The blond pursed his lips, the porch swing was on the second floor, if God forbid anything happened, it would be bad, perhaps fatally so.

"Please~" the slight Italian begged, hopping off the still moving swing to bound over to him. He suppressed the world weary sigh as his boyfriend dragged him over to the contraption, or rather, walked over reluctantly while the man tugged on his arm. He'd **_told_** Gilbert a porch swing was a bad idea, not that he'd expected his brother to listen to him seeing as the albino had gotten it into his head that sex on one would be the kinkiest thing ever.

"Fine, but nowhere as hard as you were doing it," he warned, sitting in the exact middle while Feliciano plopped down on his lap.

"That's what she said!" his brother shouted from somewhere in the house, trust Gilbert to always throw in some vulgar joke.

"Oh you _wish_ she'd said that!" the brunet in his lap yelled, snickering as he pushed off with both feet completely ignoring what he'd said. He smiled softly at his brother's hacking and wrapped his arms around that trim waist, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. Most of the time he was either making sure that Gilbert didn't burn down the house or that Feliciano didn't accidently join the Italian mafia, both of which had nearly happened on multiple occasions. When he wasn't saving the house or the mafia, he would take the time to appreciate the two people he loved more than anything in the world, even if they sometimes made him want to gauge out his eyes in frustration.

Still, even when they pushed him to the brink of insanity, they were all he really had. His older brother who had taken care of him longer than he could remember and Feliciano, his first and oldest friend. He had never been good at making friends, he was far too stern and obsessive to get close to people. He detested small talk and slacking off so it was anyone's guess as to how he'd remained friends with Feliciano for so long. Feliciano would rather run and hide than go to the gym, could never keep his mouth shut and was always so happy and carefree that it was almost sinful. Well, maybe there was something to the saying opposites attract.

"Hey Luddy, can we get ice-cream later?" his brunet asked, kicking off again, harder than before but he really didn't want to nag just yet, it was sort of fun.

"I suppose, only if you promise to do sit ups with me tonight though," he hedged although they both knew the Italian would end up sitting on the German's feet with a tub of ice cream in hand.

"Yay!" he cheered waving his arms in the air.

Crack.

They were crashing through the wooden banister, flying, weightless through the air but not for long. They would land hard on the ground and he would fall on top of Feli.

* * *

A cracked skull and broken leg. The doctors said it could have been worse and all he can do is wonder if worse equals dead.

They say he's asleep, that he probably won't wake up until tomorrow, that they'll have to come back later, him and Gilbert, because it makes no sense to stay but he doesn't give to shits about sense. He wants to stay, to hold his hand and check his pulse and feel his breath because God he almost lost the most important person in his life and it was **_all his fault_**.

"Come on kid, you heard the doctor. We can come see him tomorrow when he's awake," Gilbert sighed, tugging at his sleeve. He almost says something, something about how he's a bastard and a fucker because how can he just leave his baby brother there, leave him alone when he's hurt, but he doesn't. Feliciano knows better, he can see the worry and the pain in those unnaturally red eyes and he says nothing.

"Okay," he whispers, defeated, why did he have to rock so hard?

"It's not your fault kid. The swing just broke, it was new, no one could have known," the other mumbled, leading him through the hospital back to the car.

"No one's fault and he's fine. Ludwig's a fighter, he'll be completely fine." And God does he wish he could believe it.

* * *

"Who are you?"

"I'm Feliciano."

He wants to break something. He wants to run away and scream and scream and scream, maybe keep screaming until his voice is harsh and scratchy. The doctors warned him, they warned him that sometimes it happened, that it wasn't as drastic as in the movies, that he'd start to remember as time went on but for the moment it was as bad as it looked.

"Oh, you're my bestfriend right? I'm sorry I can't remember you." Bestfriend, heh, as if that was all they ever were, even at the very beginning that was never all they were.

"And I'm your big bro, Gilbert the Awesome. You think I'm the most awesome thing in the world and love to do the laundry."

He leaves Gilbert to babble, letting the albino deal with this shit however he wants to, Feliciano needs a bit of time to himself. He finds himself in the men's bathroom on the same floor, he locks himself in a stall and kicks at the doors and the walls until he's tired, not better but tired. Then he starts texting.

* * *

"I love you."

"I know. Ve~"

They've been in love for so long, been so comfortable with each other for years and now there's nothing. He know what the doctors said, he knows that Ludwig will probably remember him in a couple weeks, maybe a month, a year, soon but fuck if that's any consolation. He knows that it's not Ludwig's fault, that he's suffering just as much as them but it's so frustrating, it's tearing them apart.

Gilbert's a wreck. He's been trying so hard, so very hard, but nothing's working and Feliciano knows that this will only end in heartbreak, that maybe he should move on. Maybe he should back off, should regress to being just best friends or even just friends but he can't, he can't bring himself to abandon Ludwig.

In some ways it's okay, they've gotten closer, oh yeah they're together again but it's nowhere close as before. Before they were so in love, they used to be in love with each other, with their relationship, with love itself. Now, now, they appreciate each other so much more, appreciate the littlest things, like him running away from a work out or him getting Ludwig to watch over all the stupid Disney movies they both hated.

In some ways it's okay but it's all still fucked up.

* * *

"He's gone Ludwig."

"I know."

The funeral was months ago, five months, four days and eighteen hours, he's been counting. Counting each day, each hour, each minute that Feliciano hasn't been by his side, hasn't been there to make him smile, to make him feel alive. It was no one's fault, no one's. Not the driver that skid off the road, not Ludwig's for moving too slow, not the ambulance's for getting there too late **_and not fucking Feliciano's for smiling as he died in Ludwig's arms._**

"You're Feliciano. I know who you are."

He knew what the doctors had said, he knows exactly how unlikely it would be for him to remember anything beyond the basics but some things, some things are just too strong. The calming scent of authentic Italian pasta, the endearing verbal tic of ~Ve~, even the feel of a smaller body resting against his own are there.

They're disjointed but there all the same, a warmth in the pit of his stomach as he passes the park, a sigh of exasperation as he buys tomatoes, nausea whenever he looks at the porch swing. He may not know the words that went along with them, the people that were there, the right feelings that were attached to the missing memories but what he has is enough, what Feliciano tried to bring back are enough.

Gilbert has been better about it. He's stopped pulling out old photo albums, stopped dragging him to obscure as fuck places because he gets it now. He brushes away the dead flowers on the grave, replacing them with the fresh violets. They were someone's favourite and that's all that really matters anymore.

"I might not remember exactly but I'll always know who you are. You're Feliciano Vargas and I love you."

Crying isn't something to be looked down on, ever, and just then he couldn't do anything but. He'd been so blind, so fucking blind, and it took Feliciano's death for him to see.

"I'm so sorry Feli, so sorry. I miss you so so much."

Feliciano Vargas

1985-2014

_~Beloved brother, grandson and partner. Friend of many. He died as he lived, with a smile on his lips. You will be missed by all. Ve~_

* * *

**DEF: Of course my first foray into this fandom had to begin with something heart wrenching. I also did some research into the different types of amnesia that could be caused by head injuries and surprise, surprise, it's incredibly uncommon to lose all of your memories. So here we have Ludwig suffering from retrograde amnesia where one loses memories prior to trauma experienced although you don't lose all memories.**

_Carolyn: Yes, she did this to exorcise her Gerita demon and elicit tears from the readers. Didn't work so much for the first but let's see how we do on the latter._


End file.
